


Alaska

by cynicalbaguette



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 01:14:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18982180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynicalbaguette/pseuds/cynicalbaguette
Summary: Villanelle is living it up in Alaska when someone knocks on her cabin door.





	Alaska

**Author's Note:**

> alrighty y'all this is super short but I wrote it for funsies and I hope y'all enjoy this lil drabble.

Snow falls softly against the glass windows of the cabin, glowing faintly against the black of the night in the warm, yellow glow of the cabin’s interior. The night is silent -- a sort of pressing silence. Not in a stifling way but comforting, almost. Everything is muffled and enveloped by a thin layer of fresh, glittering snow.

The crunching of boots on snow.

Three knocks at the wooden door.

Through the thin curtains obscuring the view into the cabin, a tall figure can be seen rising from a couch to answer.

The door opens with a slow, hesitant creak.

“Eve.”

Villanelle looks down at snowflakes in curly black hair. Eve looks up at wide, luminous eyes. A handgun dusted with snow rises to heart-level. It trembles.

“Are you going to kill me?”

A long, agonizing pause. The snow continues to drift down onto the shaking gun.

“Would you like some shepherd’s pie?”

The gun wavers. “Would I -- what?”

“Shepherd’s pie.” Villanelle raises her eyebrows matter-of-factly. “I have been practicing. Want a taste?”

Villanelle steps back, and gestures into the cabin.

After a moment of hesitation, Eve begrudgingly steps across the threshold. The door is shut.

The cabin itself is quite cozy and rustic. The walls are wood, the ceiling is low, a fireplace crackles in the left-side wall. The decorations are entirely Villanelle. Countless perfume bottles and make up tools line a small shelf. An extremely ornate vanity of swirling gold designs sits in a corner, looking quite out of place against the simple, unadorned wall. A mini-fridge sits in another corner, no doubt full of bottles of champagne. Postcards are strewn over the kitchen counter.

Eve’s gaze wanders around her surroundings, then settles on Villanelle. She wears a soft, likely extremely expensive robe that shimmers green. Her hair is in a messy bun, and strands fall over her face as she carries two plates of shepherd’s pie to a small table. She sits, and looks expectantly up at Eve with a face of innocence.

“It took me a very long time to perfect the recipe, but I think I got it right,” Villanelle says, prodding her mashed potatoes with a fork. “Please, try it.”

“Do you know why I’m here?” Eve is still holding the gun, still shaking as she looks at Villanelle.

“Do you?” Villanelle asks, frowning.

“Yes.” Eve reaches closer to Villanelle, aiming with more conviction. “I’m going to kill you.”

“Why would you kill me?” Villanelle asks, tilting her head.

“You took everything from me. You made me kill a man.” Eve steps closer.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t make you do anything--”

“You shot me,” Eve says incredulously.

“I used a non-lethal gun. It probably can’t even kill a dog. That,” Villanelle says, eyeing the gun pointed at her heart, “will most definitely kill a dog. Maybe even the big red one with the droopy ears.”

“So you just left me there?”

Villanelle takes a moment to think. “I guess I did, didn’t I?”

“And now you’re here. In Alaska.”

Villanelle shrugs. “I was sad. I needed some time alone.”

“Let me get this straight. You shot me with an actual gun, then you came here and threw yourself the world’s most pathetic pity party?”

“In my defense, I was very sad.” Her face changes in an instant. “Listen, Eve. Please just sit down. You can keep holding the gun if you want.”

Eve looks into eyes suddenly brimming with tears, and slowly lowers herself into the chair.

Villanelle leans forward. “Before I met you, my mind was like a tunnel. It was so dark and empty, and anything I did or said just… echoed. Bounced right back at me.” She speaks slowly. Haltingly. “But you. You are like a train. You flood everything with this searing light, and it is so bright but I can’t look away.” She speaks quicker now, almost as if her thoughts spill over her lips like an unstoppable waterfall tumbling over a cliff. “You are so loud, and you fill my little tunnel with so much sound. I can’t hear myself over the screaming noise, and sometimes I can’t even tell what I am doing because all I hear is you. There is so much wind, and sparks fly, and it is all so… so very… unbearable.” She slows to a stop.

A tear rolls down Eve’s face. Villanelle stares at Eve with glistening eyes. Still. Unreadable. Then grins.

“Eve you are so naive. Did you really think I was serious? A train? I’m not telling the truth.” She laughs loudly, and stabs her fork into her shepherd’s pie.

“Yes, you are.”

She freezes. Squeezes the fork ever so slightly, but smiles back at Eve with the same unnerving gaze.

“No, I am not. I just wanted to see your face when you heard that I might still feel something for you. When you heard that you might matter again.” Villanelle pouts. “Poor Eve. Nowhere to go. Everything is so boring, isn’t it? So mundane. But not me.”

“You hurt me. You hurt everyone around you. Anna, Nadia, Konstantin. You selfish thing.” Eve pushes her plate away. Villanelle opens her mouth in theatrical surprise. “I never loved you. You never loved me either. You only seduced me to cure your own boredom.”

Something changes in Villanelle’s eyes. A flicker of pain, or maybe frustration. She shifts in her seat.

“I did not seduce you. I really loved you.”

“That wasn’t love.”

“Yes, it was.”

“Well whatever it was, you still feel it, don’t you?”

Eve sets the gun on the table, and stands. Villanelle watches with surprise as Eve makes her way around the table to Villanelle’s side.

“Love or not, it’s still something. And that’s what matters.” Eve puts a hand on Villanelle’s. Villanelle flinches, but quickly wraps her fingers around Eve’s hand. “I can show you how to love.”

Villanelle is still staring, wide-eyed at Eve when the needle is plunged into her leg.

“What-”

Villanelle’s eyelids flutter, and Eve watches as hope changes to shock in a split second. She slumps, mumbling incoherently as she fights against the inevitable. There is something tragic about the way that she struggles to remain conscious -- such a contrast from the sharp, focused killer with an unbeatable resolve. When she slides over the edge of the chair, Eve catches her, and lowers her slowly to the ground.

A crushing wave of guilt.

“I’m sorry, Oksana.”

The tinkling of a notification.

Nicely done. -Carolyn

**Author's Note:**

> So that ending was... interesting. I'm not sure if I should continue, but if I did, I would have to flesh this part out WAY more. Sorry for the angst, though.


End file.
